Hope through the dark places

The Back Pocket of Grief

Nine years after my status in life changed from “married” to “widow”, I’m able to put my memories of Bill in my back pocket. I take them out at will without pain, and return them there without guilt, or fear of forgetting him.

Safe now in the harbor of Heaven, Bill remains for me…as God says of His own…”my beloved.”*

*Deuteronomy 33: 12.

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I am 2 and 1/2 years into my ‘grief walk’ without Barry by my side. It doesn’t necessarily get any easier, but more poignant…long ago memories just jump at me in odd places and at odd times. We were together 51 years, including 4 dating years. He died suddenly of a massive heart aneurism (sp?), at home, on a Friday evening, after dinner-out…and a fun trip to a jewelry store to look for my Valentine’s present. Sudden is not exactly the word. Immediate is more what I saw with my eyes…no time to say good-bye, no time to get paramedics here fast enough. My grandson (12) said, “It is so ironic that my grandfather died of a heart attack, when he had such a big heart”. My tears are still fresh and often…my pain unbearable….I am a Christian, and read, pray, talk to God daily. He is my great High Priest, seated at the right-hand of God, and I crawl into his lap everyday……
Thanks for an opportunity to share.

Let me be the first to welcome you here. I can’t say that I know what you are going through, but I can say we are each on our own walk and know that there is no right path (other than perhaps not walking at all).

Thank you for sharing. Please check out the GriefTalk section of the site – there are some good thoughts there.

Bonnie,
I am so sorry for your loss of Barry. Thank you for sharing your grief with us. It has been 11 months for me since Sam died and I too am grateful for a Savior that takes me in his arms. The wound is still raw and the pain at times unbearable. This site is a safe haven for me and I hope you will visit us often. Your Barry sounds like an incredible man as your grandson said, “he had such a big heart.” May you continue to find peace in God and your memories of Barry warm your heart.

Bonnie,
Your grief is still raw, isn’t it? Thank you for sharing your story. I welcome your words whenever you’d like to comment.
51 years is a “lifetime” and I would think it would take awhile just to get over the shock of witnessing Barry’s sudden death. I am so sorry.

Sandi your comment to Doug, “I don’t think I could see past my grief in the moment” spoke loud and clear to me. Recently I have been thinking of myself as selfish in grief. I had a thought today, my life is truly wonderful and I am so blessed with two wonderful sons, health, great job, so many good friends and family, but all I can see right now is Sam’s absence in my life. When I read your quote, I thought, I am okay I just can’t see past my grief. It seems still shocking to me and my wounds are just beginning to heal. I have been reading all the new post lately and my thoughts and prayers go out to Doug and Robin. I am grateful for the newcomers and admire their courage to share.

Thank you for sharing. I know what you say is true. I am so much better now than I was a year ago, and I can’t even say how much better than two years ago.

I don’t know if time heals. It dose dull the pain and we choose to remember the good things and the bad things fade away. I do have joy in my life again, but there are days or events that bring it all back. My guess is there will always be things that bring back the tears – and that is how it should be.

Doug,
If I may share with you some of the feelings we experienced when we lost our daughter 10 years ago. She was in a car accident, so like your situaiton, we were unable to say goodbye. I’ll be honest. I’m not sure I could have done that. We have actually thanked God over the years for the more painless way of losing our precious girl. One need only consider deaths by way of murder or suicide to find some meausre of relief; gratitude for the kindness shown us in our loss.

BTW I had a similar conversation with God on my way to the hospital, but my words were more like “God, please don’t do this.” When you get that call, you just know. Driving alone to the hospital, I instinctively knew what I was up against. It’s pain like no other.

Many suggest there is no loss like that of a child. I tend to agree. But please know you can heal after this type of death. I also know some hate to hear it but it is true – “time heals.” To everone visiting here, allow that time to pass. Eventually you will find joy in life. I promise!

Doug,
I can’t imagine anything worse than losing a child. I am so sorry. My heart goes out to you.
We can be going along, doing ok, and then something happens like your seeing the bike accident, and we feel like we’re right back there at the beginning again. Not fun, is it? Grief is a hard road.
Thanks so much for sending your websites. I plan on looking them up. It must have been very theraputic writing about your grief journey & honoring your son with a site.
How are you doing today?

I remember on my drive to the hospital – not knowing anything other than my son had been in an accident – praying, “God, if you’re going to take my son, please take him quickly. Don’t make him suffer.”

God answered that prayer, maybe to well. I didn’t get to say good bye to him, he was gone before I got there – he was gone within seconds of the accident.

As we were leaving the hospital, I went back into the room where he lay. I put my hand under his shirt and against his chest – like I had so many times before – and I felt the last of his bodies heat fading away. It was in that moment – not in the hour of sitting around in the hospital – that I knew he was gone. It was at that moment – in the midst of my grief and shock – that I thanked God that my son was not a vegetable that would hang on for years and that one day I would have to choose to let die.

It was a strange experience to be thankful and devastated at the the same moment, and the strangeness continues. Happy times tinged with sadness. Time of remembering how special he was and what he could have been. I think we all live with mixed emotions, but us who have lost a loved one just experience them more deeply.

I look forward to the day when I can pull Nigel’s memories out of my back pocket with out feeling the sadness. Thank you for giving me something to look forward to.

Doug,
I can relate to your mixed feelings of being thankful and devastated at the same time. It took much longer for me than you though, to be grateful my husband was no longer suffering. I don’t think I could see past my grief in the moment. Months later, I began to understand it from what had been his point of view in a paralyzed body, and was grateful he was and is “safe” in Heaven.

I followed your post from Linked In. I looked around your site and read some of the posts – very nice.

I am also on a grief walk, but not as far along as you. My son died just over there years ago. Yesterday I was reminded how real the pain still is. I was driving home from work. All of a sudden there was a traffic jam ahead – cars pulling over to the side of the road. I figured it was a fender bender.

As I reach the location I saw a man laying on the ground holding his leg with his bicycle still between his legs.

– My son died in a bicycle accident on his way to high school. –

For the next two hours my heart was racing and my hand were shaking. The experience brought home the fact that I’m not over loosing him.

For the first year after Nigel died I wrote a blog about my walk. It is very different than yours since it was written while I was going through the very first stages of grief. I wrote the posts mostly for myself – they were my way of letting out the feelings. You can see it at http://douglasgclarke.me

I known that people read the posts, but was a little surprised how few people ever left comments. I think the problem is that people are very uncomfortable talking about grief and loss. What do you say to someone in grief that will sound dumb patronizing?

Doug,
I am so sorry for the loss of your son. As a parent, I can’t imagine anything worse than losing your child. I am glad that you found this site and I hope you will check back from time to time. We are all brought here by one common thread…grief. We have all lost a loved one and our journey is not easy or one that we would have chosen to take…so for me this is one trip, I do not want to travel alone. It took a lot of courage to write your journal online. I admire your strength and courage.
I agree with your comment that people are uncomfortable with talking about grief. I am learning after 11 months of losing the love of my life, that others have moved on with their life and our sadness is something they do not know how to handle. If I cry it makes people feel like they have caused me pain, when in reality it is not painful to talk about Sam…I want to talk, but the tears will flow.
I will keep you in my prayers.

Thank you for your prayers. I have been very lucky to be part of a fellowship of believers that have embraced me these last three years. I don’t cry many places, but church is one of the places I do.

Shortly after his death I really needed hugs; I needed to he held and allowed to feel weak. Those who sat around me accepted the fact than when stood to greet each other, and others were offering their hands to shake, I would ignore the hands and reach out for a hug. I can;t think of once that I was refused.

This last Sunday a woman came up two rows to give me a hug. She asked me, “How are you doing?”
I said, “Fine.”
After our hug she said, “Now convince me.”
I smiled at her and said, “I can’t.”
She nodded and smiled back.

She left me with the feeling that I am cared for, and if I need to talk with someone, she would be there for me.

If you don’t mind me asking, did you loose your love quickly like I did, or did you experience the anticipatory grief like Sandie?

Doug,
What you wrote is exactly how I feel now and have never put into words…”needed to be held and allowed to feel weak.” I sat with a close friend and relative recently crying my heart out and they both just looked at me and said, “think good thoughts and you will feel better!!!” It crushed me that I was crying out in despair and all I got was a nod. I am a hugger and sensitive person, so hugs are wonderful and as you said…say to someone..I care and I am here if you need me.
Sam died on August 12, 2010 unexpectantly. He was 62 years old, fought and survived cancer twice, but his bone marrow never recovered. Sam died from complications after emergency surgery. I live 180 miles away. Sam’s mom was with him in the ER and his family and I received a call early Thursday morning. Sam’s brother lives near me and he drove me to the hospital, but we didn’t make it in time.
When I entered the room where Sam’s body lay, there was a peaceful smile on his face…I knew he was at peace and no longer in pain…but my pain was just beginning. My life has not been the same since that morning, but by the grace of God I am putting one foot in front of the other. Sam was the love of my life, we were together for many years as friends then as a couple. I live with my two teenage sons, one is in college, and the other a senior in high school. My future after my boys graduated was to be with Sam, but now my future with Sam will have to wait until God takes me home.
Thank you for asking me my story and for sharing yours. Some journey we are all traveling, but Sandi’s post are inspirational and encouraging so this website has been wonderful for me. I hope you will find the same comfort here.

Love that – “Safe now in the harbor of heaven”. Have also had a widow tell me that her husband had “moved to heaven”. We will never forget our loved ones, they will always be alive in our hearts. I believe I have come a long way in the 4 years since my Jerry went to be with the Lord and God is using me to reach out to others. I know that He would be proud of some of many of the things I have been able to do and the strength the Lord has given me to go on and live my life.

Kathryn,
Your ability to reach out to others and the strength you have is admirable. I appreciate your sharing your experiences. Still so new to this journey and it is encouraging to hear that one day it will not be so painful.

Sandi,
Beautifully written and hopeful to hear to you say that the memories are without pain, guilt and fear of forgetting. I especially love the words…”safe now in the harbor of Heaven.” Beautiful and so comforting.
Last night I had a “moment” of total peace and immediately thanked God for a glimpse into the future.

"Words of wisdom from those who have had to walk through grief: be gracious/patient/forgiving when we forget appointments, change our minds at the last minute, don't return phone calls, act a lil' crazy."
Kelly Schleyer Powers

"You do not work through bereavement. It works through you."
Virginia Ironside,
'You'll Get Over It'-The Rage of Bereavement

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love."
Washington Irving

"I wish you would've told me," she said, "that losing you would be like losing my life."
...taken from author, Mary De Muth's novel, The Muir House.

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."
Psalm 147:3

"In a world rocky with human failure, there is a land lush with divine mercy. Your Shepherd invites you there. He wants you to lie down. Nestle deeply until you are hidden, buried, in the tall shoots of his love, and there you will find rest."
...Max Lucado,Traveling Light